


so if you need me, is something you decide

by fridaygrimm



Series: some kind of clear unspoken chemistry [1]
Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: I Don't Even Know You Guys, It's been a while, M/M, That's it, wedding fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridaygrimm/pseuds/fridaygrimm
Summary: literally just wedding fic. everything's over and tommy and lovett have sex about it.





	so if you need me, is something you decide

**Author's Note:**

> it has been a time since i've written rpf! i am very nervous about it! this fandom ate me?

Lovett finds weddings exhausting. He tells Tommy as much, sitting at the bar when he’s still buzzing even after it’s all over. After he’s ceded his title to Judge Black, with only limited argument (followed by half an hour of following him around introducing him into every conversation as ‘Judge Timothy Black, a straight shooter, respected on both sides’). After giving the best fucking speech of his life, feeling breathless and half-there the whole time. After letting Tommy pull him out onto the floor when the bridal party was called to dance.

‘I let you lead,’ he tells Tommy over the rim of his glass. He hasn’t kept track of his drinks very well, and the sugary feel of his back teeth says he’s going to regret it tomorrow, but when he takes a sip this one turns out to be water. He squints at Tommy, certain it’s his doing.

‘You did,’ Tommy agrees. ‘And you only stepped on my toes twice.’ Lovett toasts him and takes another mouthful, eyeing Tommy’s glass which is definitely not water. Tommy takes a sip, nursing it as he watches Lovett.

‘I’m happy,’ Lovett says, and it’s true. ‘Stop looking at me like that.’ Tommy nods but he doesn’t. Lovett shakes his head. He is. He’s happy that Favs and Emily are on their way to their honeymoon. It feels a lot like letting go. In a completely separate way he’s happy that he’s sitting here at the bar in the dim lighting with Tommy. Tommy, who still has his tie on even though his jacket’s draped over the back of his chair and his sleeves are rolled up. Neatly rolled. Lovett lost his own jacket sometime after the speech and before the dance, his tie after the dance but before now.

He’s happy but he’s glad it’s over. He’s glad the anxiety about what it means has burnt itself out inside him. He’s glad he doesn’t feel like he’s going to shake apart, but he does feel hollow. He’s about to say all of that. It’s on the tip of his tongue when Tommy finishes the last of his drink and slides off his stool to stand. He picks up his jacket, and Lovett’s jacket, which turns out to have been underneath it the whole time. Lovett stares at the pink tie poking out of the pocket, absolutely certain that’s not where he left it.

‘Come on,’ Tommy says, catching his elbow and tugging him onto his feet. He’s right there when Lovett lands, hand shifting to his waist to steady him. He drains the rest of the water, like that’ll fortify him, slams the empty glass down and looks up at Tommy.

It evokes memories, this kind of touching, that he’s worked hard to keep separate from actual interaction with Tommy. Memories of DC and things they haven’t spoken about since Lovett left, things they never really spoke about. 

Lovett’s already in the process of looking away, creating some space for the memories to dissipate again, when Tommy leans down and kisses him. It’s not the best kiss they’ve managed, though halfway between the memories and the familiar smell of Tommy’s good cologne over a warm body Lovett’s first response is to lean into it. By the time he’s fully engaged Tommy’s pulling back, searching his face.

‘Feeling inspired?’ Lovett asks, trying very hard to ruin the moment. ‘I know the movies have taught you how easy it is to get laid at a wedding.’ Tommy laughs. Lovett’s still close enough to feel it.

‘I’m not looking for anything easy,’ he says quiet and uncomfortably sincere. His hand’s still on Lovett’s waist, thumb moving in little circles at the bottom of his rib cage. Lovett looks up at him and figures fuck it.

‘Fuck you,’ he says, easy as breathing. ‘I’ve already got a room. I can be easy.’ Tommy laughs again. He keeps glancing at Lovett as he maneuvers them out from between the stools, around the discarded furniture and detritus of the wedding, heads for their rooms. The whole time he keeps a hand on him, like one of them might disappear.

Despite Lovett’s quip they end up in Tommy’s room. There’s a light on by the bed giving the room a kind of mood lighting. Lovett figures there’s something similar in his own room but he’s absolutely certain he wouldn’t have thought to leave it on against the certainty of a future where he got back after dark.

‘Our Tommy, always planning ahead.’ Tommy flushes a little, ducks his head, which he turns into another kiss, to which Lovett has no objection. He fists a hand in Tommy’s shirt, pulling him greedily closer. Tommy obliges, pressing him back against the wood of the door, trapping him with height and strength that leaves him embarrassingly weak kneed.

When Tommy finally pulls away the flush has spread, leaving him pink cheeked and even more Sound of Music than ever. It shouldn’t be as appealing as it is.

‘You should have some more water,’ he murmurs. Lovett snorts.

‘Are you trying to hydrate me? What kind of debauchery do you have planned exactly that you need me this hydrated?’ Tommy’s lips twitch even as he groans and he doesn’t try to stifle the grin. He disengages and steps back, leaving Lovett feeling a little exposed with his back to the door and his hands hanging awkwardly in the air. Tommy doesn’t seem to notice, already heading for the bed where there’s a full glass of water.

‘Boy scout,’ Lovett accuses, swallowing the crack in his voice. Tommy looks back and smiles and Lovett moves helplessly towards him. He ignores the water, pushes Tommy down to sit on the edge of the bed instead, crawls familiarly into his lap. Toes his shoes off and listens to them hit the carpet with satisfaction.

Tommy runs his hands up Lovett’s thighs to his hips, thumbs digging into the soft skin to find bone, gripping tight for a moment before sliding up higher to work first Lovett’s, then his own belt open. Lovett leaves the process questions to Tommy and focuses on the line of Tommy’s jaw in his hands, the thunder of his pulse under the warm skin of his neck, the way Tommy presses into the kiss even while his hands keep working.

He has to let go once Tommy gets his shirt undone, impatiently shrugging it down and off to be rewarded by the sight of Tommy with his own shirt unbuttoned, looking back at him. He has a quip half-formed about a Crooked Media line of softcore gratuitous romance novels but Tommy reaches up and pulls him in with a hand on the back of neck. They sink back down onto the bed and Lovett rolls to the side, pulling Tommy on top of him without a shred of pretense. It’s nice, the familiarity, the knowing. He likes that he doesn’t have to ask for Tommy to catch his wrists and pin them lightly to the bed. He doesn’t question the bloom of warmth he feels when he nips at Tommy’s earlobe and feels the breath hitch up in his chest. He knew that.

He likes that he knows what he’s getting into when Tommy trails off from where he’s been pressing sweet little kisses to Lovett’s neck and mutters ‘I really want to fuck you,’ a little reedy and a lot wanting against his collarbone.

‘Yeah?’ he says, pressing his body up against Tommy’s, testing the heat between them that’s suffusing his limbs ‘yeah, that sounds like a good idea.’ That maybe takes a moment to process and then Tommy pulls back to look down at him like he’s surprised, like maybe he thought he was asking for something he wouldn’t get. Lovett musters a raised eyebrow, though mostly what he wants is for Tommy to come back down. He contents himself with tracing the line of Tommy’s shoulder blade with one hand while Tommy works through whatever’s in his head. For a second he looks like he’s going to say something. He thinks better of it, pushing himself up from the bed and heading for the neatly packed overnight bag in the corner.

Lovett takes the opportunity to finish undoing his pants, kicking them off and over the side of the bed.

‘Think Indochino would appreciate an addition to their ad copy?’ he asks idly, watching Tommy peel the remains of his own suit off before kneeing his way back up the bed.

Tommy leans down to kiss him again, pressing him back to lie down with a hand on his shoulder.

‘I like you better without the suit,’ he murmurs, sincere and sweet as he pulls away. That lands unexpectedly solidly and Lovett’s left without a quip as Tommy presses a kiss to his shoulder, his sternum, his stomach. 

By the time Tommy’s kneeling between his thighs with a focussed expression he’s come out with the weak ‘no man looks better out of a suit,’ which he can’t keep from tripping off his tongue. Tommy laughs anyway, smiling up at him as he rubs his palms along Lovett’s thighs. The sight makes him swallow, as much with the sense memory of how good this gets as it is at the way Tommy’s looking at him, all soft and sure and warm.

‘Well, go on then’ he drawls, though it comes out with a hint of a whine, which Tommy mercifully doesn’t mention. Instead snapping open the lube and slicking his fingers with a series of movements Lovett can picture (has pictured) with his eyes closed. Nothing in his imaginative recreations gets close to the way Tommy’s fingers feel though, gentle but persistent and so fucking deep.

He becomes aware he said that out loud when Tommy chuckles, low in his chest. Lovett squints down at him to add ‘with your freaky fucking spider fingers,’ startling a louder laugh out of him. Tommy doubles down, fucking him with quick in-strokes and slow, curling pulls that make Lovett squirm.

‘Enough,’ he finally whines, giving up on getting any snap back in his voice. he reaches for Tommy instead. Who grins at him, pulling away to tear the condom open and roll it on with smooth, sure strokes.

‘You think you’re so sexy,’ Lovett accuses as Tommy palms the back of his thigh and he shifts obligingly to hook one leg over Tommy’s stupidly attractive forearm. He finds himself staring as he continues ‘Just because your ancestors were some of the finest footwear worn on the Mayflower you think-’ he cuts himself off with an embarassingly gratified sound when Tommy presses into him, leaning closer and closer until he can scrape his teeth along the soft skin under Lovett’s jaw.

‘You’re sexy,’ he murmurs and Lovett gasps in what’s trying to be outrage but is mostly the only way he can remember to breathe as Tommy eases out then slowly presses back in.

‘Thomas,’ Lovett pants, ‘that’s a terrible- a terrible- Tommy,’ he trails off as Tommy reaches up to catch his wrists again, holding them more firmly this time as he presses them into the pillow. Lovett arches, pressing skin to skin in every way he can find.

Tommy shivers against him, stealing the last of his breath with a slow kiss that doesn’t ever really break but ebbs and flows between them as Lovett lets go of the relentless narration of his brain and gives over to Tommy. Tommy, who calls him Jon with a breathless voice and his eyes fluttering closed. Who shakes when he comes and pulls back to look down at Lovett like he’s woken up in a dream. Tommy, who keeps his wrists pinned to the bed with one hand and jacks him off while Lovett watches him with his eyes wide fucking open.

Tommy, who slides away a moment after, when they’re still catching their breath. He doesn’t try to touch in the aftermath when Lovett still feels raw and overheated. 

Instead he slides out of the bed and putters around the room, dealing with the condom and picking up the scattered clothes and neatly hanging them over the back of the chair. He packs away the lube and lines their shoes up by the door.

While Tommy’s in the bathroom Lovett stares at those fucking shoes until his eyes won’t focus properly.

When Tommy comes back from the bathroom he brings a damp cloth and a second glass of water.

‘You’re such a fucking boy scout, Tommy Vietor,’ Lovett tells him fondly, voice low and scratchy in at his throat.

Tommy gets up to rinse out the cloth while Lovett laughs at him. On the way back to the bed he flashes Lovett the three fingered salute before turning his hand and dropping two fingers. Lovett laughs harder, still warm and quivering with it when Tommy slides under the sheets and wraps his arms around him.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr as fridaygrimm, everyone should come talk to me about this fandom.


End file.
